


Anchor

by SeasInkarnadine



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Discovery, F/F, First Time, Fluff, PWP, Sexual exploration, Smut, Spooning, cross posted on tumblr, soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-19
Updated: 2019-05-19
Packaged: 2020-03-08 03:17:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18886084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SeasInkarnadine/pseuds/SeasInkarnadine
Summary: Adora is the only thing that Catra has ever been sure of.





	Anchor

It’s late at night and they should’ve fallen asleep hours ago but they were up late talking in hushed whispers and barely contained giggles. Now, finally, Adora’s curled up on her side, her cheek pressed against Catra’s shoulder. 

At some point while they were getting settled Catra’s soft sleeping shirt started to ride up her tummy. She didn’t bother to correct it. It’s nothing Adora hasn’t seen before. 

Adora’s fingers slide onto Catra’s belly, rubbing it in slow circles. It’s nice. Soothing. She listens to Adora’s slow inhale and exhale. 

And that might have been fine. Catra might have fallen asleep. That might have been the end of it.

But Adora’s fingers do something new.

They start to stroke her fur.

The line of fur that trails down her front and down, down between her legs.

And Adora’s fingers. She isn’t moving them in a way that’s especially different from before. 

But she  _ is.  _ She IS. She must be. Why else is there this need building between Catra’s legs? Why is she desperate for pressure, a little further down, desperate for Adora’s hands to be stroking, to keep stroking don’t stop stroking just a little further down please–

Catra struggles to keep her soul from ascending when Adora’s fingers brush against the waistband of her underwear.  _ Don’t tense don’t tense don’t tense _ She repeats to herself like a mantra, like a command, like it’s the only thing she knows.

Adora slides her hand across Catra’s belly without any indication she’s picked up on the change in behavior. Her fingers, her sinful fingers, spread just a little and run through Catra’s fur. Her touch pulls at the fur just a little and the whimpering need becomes a howling roar impossible to deny–

“Catra?” Adora’s sleep heavy voice is thick.

Catra is clutching Adora’s hand with both of hers, holding it for dear life–but whether to push it away or right against her aching center she doesn’t know.

“Did I do something wrong?” Adora asks in a small, unsure tone Catra hasn’t heard since they were 6. 

“No.” No, nothing's wrong. With Adora, anyway. Catra releases her hand. It hovers awkwardly over her stomach before finally settling down. 

They lie motionless together. Adora’s chest is pressed against Catra’s back. Catra can feel the steady  _ ba-dum, ba-dum, ba-dum _ of Adora’s heart. 

Darkness envelops them both. The silence is the loudest thing in the room.

“You don’t have to stop.”

At first Catra isn’t sure that Adora heard her, but then--aahh _ hhhh _ … A light touch starts to swirl tiny circles in her short fur. A renewed wave of desire rushes over her. She  _ wants. _ She doesn’t know exactly what it is she wants but she  _ wants _ . It’s like this itch she can’t scratch, and Adora is the one making her itch, but she’s also the one doing the scratching. It’s not at all uncomfortable. It’s nice. It’s good. Oh Gods, it’s good. She wants more.

_ Ba-da ba-da ba-da. _ Against Catra’s back she can feel Adora’s heart beat faster. A microsecond later she registers Adora’s touch drifting lower, lower. The tips of her fingers brush the band of Catra’s underwear. They keep going. They reach lower.

“I...Is this okay…?” Adora’s voice is shy.

Adora is brash. She is loud. She is unafraid. Tactical decisions that would take hardened veterans days to resolve she settles in minutes. Mistakes are lessons to be learned from, not memories to bury and forget.   
Adora is not shy.

(Adora is shy, now.)

Her softness reaches through the thick skin Catra constructed to protect herself. It cools the frantic furnace in her brain.

But her body is still on fire.

She is too far through the tunnel to stop now. She has to see the end of this.

Catra presses her pelvis against Adora’s hand, seeking more.

“Catra? Is this okay?”

She’s going to insist on a verbal answer here, isn’t she? Catra huffs. 

“It only won't be okay if you stop.” 

Adora smiles, and obliges. 

Her fingers stroke gently, and in any other circumstance the motion would be soothing. If Adora were touching anywhere but her pelvis. Catra scissors her legs, rotating her hips a fraction. Then, more. She twists until she is on her back, legs spread open. Adora is still on her side, one arm resting on the pillows beneath Catra’s neck, the other curled up, hand on her stomach. Adora moves cautiously, carefully, like it’s her first time in the training arena. She strokes further down and then retreats, then re engaging from the side, dipping down only to pull back again-

Catra grabs her hand and forces it right where she wants it. 

“ _ Commit _ to it.” She hisses, but the edge of her words is somewhat dulled by the way she’s rocking her hips into Adora’s touch.

“Someone’s a little eager.” 

“Like you wouldn't be if--” her snarky retort dies in her throat as Adora's fingers stroke  _ just _ the right spot. Catra feels like she is out of her body. She must be. Nothing has ever felt so good. This can't be real.

More. more. more. Adora continues to stoke the inferno raging within Catra. And Catra has never been more delighted to burn.

She grabs the waistband of her underwear and thrusts it down. Adora takes the hint, helping to pull them further til they're tangled in Catra's calves. 

Adora's fingers slip down, forming a V shape along the sides of Catra's clit. 

“Oh.” Adora murmurs, a little noise of surprise in the darkness. The sound of finding something unexpected. The sound chases Catra’s earlier bravado out the door.

“What?” Catra breathes, heart clenching in her chest.

“You're….wet.”

The building heat suddenly becomes this ball of cold lead pitted in her stomach.

“Is...do..”

“It's so fucking hot…. You’re so fucking hot.”

_ Oh. _

It was that kind of ‘Oh’. 

Catra feels Adora press the tips of her fingers against her entrance.

The heat blazes again and she has to press her face against Adora's shoulder in order to muffle a yelp of pleasure. 

Adora continues to tease, swirling around in circles, spreading fluid around the lips of Catra’s aching cunt. Adora glides back and forth, around and around, dancing with an uneven rhythm she’s only starting to learn. It's perfect. It's beautiful. Adora's fingers are perfect. Adora's hands. Adora's… Adora.

Catra aches. The emptiness in her  _ aches _ . She never realized how empty she was until this all consuming desire to be  _ filled _ is rushing over her with the violence of a tsunami. Adora is tearing her open and stitching her back together with each stroke. 

She leans over and kisses Adora.  _ Fill me, _ she begs, silently, with her mouth.  _ Fill me, _ she pleads, with the way she sucks Adora's bottom lip between hers.  _ Fill me _ , she cries, with her hand fisting in Adora's shirt and holding it fiercely, to have something to keep her from floating off the very bed.

Adora’s fingers work with a steadiness surely designed to drive Catra mad. She's not going where she needs her to--Catra angles her hips suddenly, thrusting violently against Adora's hand.

“What're y--” 

“I need more,” She pleads. 

Catra never pleads.

(She is pleading now, with every quivering muscle, with every breath she takes, with every time the light catches in her eyes in the dark)

“Adora, I--”

Adora shifts her position, pulling her arm out from beneath the pillows so that she can prop herself up. It gives her a little more reach with her other hand.

“Catra. Do you trust me?”

“What?”

“Do you trust me?”

What a stupid question. And under normal circumstances she might even say so. But now she wants to say, with every beat of my heart. With every breath in my chest. With all the strength of the stars I am formerly made of, I trust you.

“ _ Yes, _ ” is what she manages. 

Adora, the beautiful idiot, looks Catra right in the eye as she slips her fingers slowly inside.

_ There. _ That satisfaction she's chasing--just a hint of it. a glimpse of relief from this black hole of hunger. 

“Adora, Adora, yes, yes,  _ yes, _ ” and Adora starts to move her fingers and Catras could swear her heart is bursting. She pulls at Adora until she's almost on top of her, though there’s less strength in her arms than she’d care to admit. Mostly she tugs. Adora, fortunately, is doing well reading her signals tonight, and moves as urged. It’s awkward. Adora has to rotate her wrist to keep from pulling out. But she ends up on top, her knees bracketing Catra’s hips, her free hand braced against the pillows beside Catra’s head.

This. This is what she wants. Her whole world framed to Adora. Surrounded. Held by the only soft, loving touch she’s ever known. But it’s an undercurrent. Secondary to this fierce desire boiling her blood.

She thrusts her hips against Adora's hand like her life depends on it.

Adora will not be harried by Catra's rushed pace. She does not meet her halfway, instead letting her arm flow with Catra’s movement.

“Be patient.” She chides, which is  _ easy for you to say _ but words are beyond her right now. All she can do is obey.

Adora’s slick fingers push in slowly. Steadily. They push in until they can't anymore, and Catra lets loose a strangled moan as she bottoms out. Then she slowly draws out. Catra feels her dragging along her walls as she does, exploring her sensitive interior. The touch is more exploratory than erotic.

Catra whines. low in her throat. She actually fucking  _ whines _ . But you know what? She is too far gone to give a damn. She just. NEEDS.She needs and Adora is the only one who can give and she. Isn’t. Giving. It’s cruel.

“Sorry,” Adora chuckles, her breath tickling Catra's ear. “I'll take care of you.”

And she does.

She thrusts in and out, in and out, with perfect timing and unflattering strength, like she's a goddamn machine, like she's been working out her back and arms and shoulders just for this, like she was made to be filling Catra. Just like this. Finally.  _ Finally _ .

“Yes, yes, yes,” she cries, burying her face against Adora's shoulder. “Fuck.” She murmurs against the soft cloth. “Don't stop. don't stop. don't stop.” She can see the horizon, now. The peak of something. The edge. Catra is hurtling towards it and it's terrifying and glorious and she couldn't stop it even if she tried.

Adora shuffles a bit, moving her knees up, her shoulder pulling away, and Catra wants to cry out at the loss but before she can Adora brings over her other hand and slides Catra's clit between two fingers and--

The  _ relief _ is unlike anything she's ever known. It's like drinking water after 24 long dry hours in the hot sun. It's like falling asleep after 3 days of being awake. It’s butterflies in her stomach, it’s a percussive blast, it’s the slow swell of the sea, it’s the violent pull of a riptide.

She never wants it to end.

She never wants Adora to stop.

She wants to untwist their DNA so she can wind their strands back together again and be linked forever. She wants the stars of her makeup to be pressed with Adora's until they are indistinguishable from one another.

“Catra?” It's Adora's voice that brings her back from the cosmos.

It's always Adora who brings Catra back.

It's always Adora.

“Did I… are you okay?”

It's only then she realizes that there are tears streaking her face.

She's too happy to care.

“Yeah.” She sniffles, but her grin is 1000 watts. “Yeah I'm okay.” Adora smiles too, then, and Catra grabs the back of her neck to press their foreheads together because she loves this beautiful idiot so much it hurts and it heals with every breath and she never ever wants it to stop.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Read more like this on my tumblr at SeasInkarnadine.


End file.
